Bursts of Light
by rainywindows
Summary: [CH3: In which Fuji tricks Nami twice!] Tsuchida Nami is fed up with her tensai stepsister Sakiko, who will stop at nothing to make her life a living hell. So when she realizes Fuji Syusuke is the boy who broke Sakiko's heart, dating him is the golden opportunity to get revenge. But then her own heart wavers. A story of love and redemption and small kindnesses. FujiOC.
1. Long Exposure

**A/N:** I wrote this story because Fuji is a kind person, a good older brother, and someone who will do anything for the people that he loves. And he really deserves his own epic love story, you know? Also people have gotta stop making Fuji the go-to love triangle for RyoSaku squabbles. The guy is a tensai, he's not gonna go for a pushover like Sakuno. xoxo

Also, I ask shyly that you give this story a chance! I won't give up on it if you won't! Let me know what you think :)

PSA: Fuji Syusuke DEFINITELY appears in Chapter 2 ;) Chapter 1 is all about setting up the premise, which is important as well!

 **Disclaimer:** I donut own PoT!

* * *

 **Bursts of Light: Chapter 1  
**

 _ **Long Exposure:**  
_ _A photographic image exposed to the scene for an extended period.  
_ _A distillation of slow movement.  
The product of something a long time coming._

"I want to transfer to Seigaku."

Four eyes around the dinner table blinked at Tsuchida Nami.

"Do you really, nee-san?" asked Nami's little brother Hiro, who was about to enter 5th grade. He turned to their father, his dark-gray bangs flopping into his blue eyes. "Does that mean I can transfer too?"

Everyone ignored him.

Finally, their stepmom spoke. "Don't be silly, both of you. It's the week before school starts and I had to pull a lot of strings to get you both into the St. Rudolph system last year to be with your stepsister."

"Yeah, lucky us," Nami deadpanned. "Thank you so much for letting us freeze in hell, Mitsuko-san."

Hiro giggled. Their stepmom pursed her lips. Nami knew Mitsuko-san held back from disciplining them because she wasn't their real mother, who was currently traveling the world as a photographer for National Geographic Japan.

"Language, Nami," their dad sighed. "What's wrong with St. Rudolph? Sakiko has always thrived there, and you'll get into an excellent college with such a good high school name if you get your grades up."

Her older stepsister Sakiko jumped in even though no one had asked her to. "Nami, you're just not used to the environment yet. Stay at St. Rudolph. You can work with me on where you're….lacking. What would you do alone at Seigaku when you only survived last year by having me as your role model?"

Her stepmom nodded proudly.

By now Nami was used to the shameless self-promotion that had come with the women of her father's second marriage last year. But God, she'd had enough of it at home. Over the summer, after spending even _more_ time with Nakamura Sakiko than during her first year of high school at that hellhole full of creeps (like Mizuki Hajime anyone?), after watching Sakiko prattle on and on about her perfect grades and perfect friends and endless string of boyfriends—Nami couldn't take it anymore.

She needed a reprieve from the madness that was her uppercrust stepmom and stepsister, from the superiority complex that was so ingrained in them—so Nakamura—that Nami couldn't even accuse them of doing it on purpose.

God, oh God, please let her parents say yes. She didn't need to spend anymore time with long-legged golden-haired Sakiko, who as a second year at St. Rudolph had sought Nami out throughout the school day to ask if she was following the diet plan outlined for her to reach an acceptable level of thinness. Sakiko, who went to Nami's teachers to get her test scores (and of course they gave it to St. Rudolph's star pupil) and then proceeded to buy remedial books for subjects Nami had a 90 or below in.

Sakiko, who had purposely humiliated and alienated Nami's first friend at St. Rudolph for being too poor to associate with them. And by poor, Sakiko had meant just about the same economic level Nami's family had been before her dad married Mitsuko-san. Even though Nami had gone into high school with grim expectations, she didn't know her experience would devolve into some sort of twisted hide-and-seek with an egomaniac stepsister who everyone else—teachers, peers, adults—seemed to adore.

Hiro was so lucky to still be learning pre-algebra in the elementary school a mile away from Sakiko's radius of "helpfulness."

"Anyway," Mitsuko-san sniffed, clearly miffed at the lack of gratitude from her two stepchildren. "It's too late to do anything about it now."

"Actually, Seigaku already accepted me." For the first time in a long while, Nami had felt a swell of pride when she'd received the blue and white package in the temporary mailbox rented out to receive her transfer application decisions. "And I've filed my resignations for all the clubs and leadership positions Sakiko made me join at St. Rudolph. It'll look terrible on my college applications if I don't have a transfer as the reason for me quitting all my extracurriculars. There's nothing left to do but for otou-san to sign my commitment."

Game. Set. Match. (As her friend Yuuta-kun would say.)

The two adults gaped at her. Sakiko looked mildly impressed and Hiro seemed to be formulating his own escape plan now that Nami had cornered their parents.

Their dad furrowed his brow. "Well why did you wait until now to tell us?!"

Nami blushed. "I was—I was waitlisted at first. I didn't make Seigaku's initial transfer cutoff scores, but I told them I really really wanted it and they gave me the good news two days ago."

Sakiko sighed dramatically. "Nami, I've always told you you needed to get your grades up. It really brings you so many more opportunities than you have right now. I'm already in talks with Tokyo University about a full ride for next year, you know?"

Leave it to Sakiko to turn a family crisis into a bragging session.

Their dad pinched his forehead. "Nami, let me—let me talk over this with Mitsuko-san tonight. We'll get back to you, okay? For now let's finish eating."

"I'm not hungry anymore!" Hiro exclaimed. Nami snorted.

* * *

Tsuchida Akinari loved his children. He really did. So he couldn't help but feel continuous waves of guilt when he started to realize that they weren't quite warming up to his new wife Nakamura Mitsuko.

The problem was, he loved her, he really did. A college professor of feminist literature at Keio University, he had always been attracted to strong career women who pushed back against traditional expectations. It was, after all, what drew him to his children's mother, a headstrong photographer who flew away from their comfortable nest of family life when Nami was 10 and Hiro was only 4. Tsuchida Nadeshiko had never really needed him or even children, and one day she realized it and never looked back.

So when Akinari met Nakamura Mitsuko at a dinner celebration for prominent female lawyers of Tokyo three years ago, where he had been asked to give a few words on the importance of feminism, he felt a stirring in his heart that had not occurred in many years. Oh, she was definitely headstrong like Nadeshiko, but he loved that about the both of them. But unlike his ex-wife, there was also something heartbreakingly vulnerable about her, the way she had teared up over a glass of wine when relating to him her failed marriage with Sakiko's father, a partner at her previous law firm who had almost as many affairs as cases. The way she told him that she just wanted, for once, a nice man who would not be bitter over her strength, accomplishment, and wealth.

Really, he had no choice but to take her hand and say that he would be that man.

He knew she and her shiny daughter Sakiko could be a bit much—that everyone agreed on—but they both meant well. And more importantly, after years of growing up without a mother in the house, it was time for Nami and Hiro to have someone who could cook better dinners than omurice or katsu-don every night. Now that he thought about it, maybe it was the sudden increase in vegetable intake that had his children so crabby about moving in with his decidedly wealthier second wife and stepdaughter.

"What was she thinking, doing all of that without a word of it to us," Mitsuko huffed. "Doesn't she know how good of an opportunity St. Rudolph is?"

Akinari watched his wife forcefully remove bobby pins from the corporate bun that her golden waves had been confined to. "Don't be so hard on her, anata," he murmured. "She hasn't had the easiest transition this past year."

"Well Hiro's having a great time isn't he?"

Akinari laughed a little. "Hiro's still young and flexible. And that child will be happy as long as you give him Legos and popsicles."

Mitsuko peered at her husband critically. "You should have raised them with stricter standards. All Nami does is wander around with that expensive camera and snap pictures. She's not going to make a living off of that. Not everyone can end up as successful as Nadeshiko-san, you know?"

He nodded slowly.

She continued. "I want the best for Nami. And part of that is learning from Sakiko. My daughter's going to go so far in life, and she can teach yours so much."

"But it really seems that...even after a year, Nami isn't happy."

"Happiness is overrated, anata."

"Aren't you happy after you married me?"

"I—I am. But it took a long time for me to get where I am today."

"I want my kids to be happy, Mitsuko."

"What are you saying then? Let Nami transfer to Seigaku?"

"It's a fine school. My uncle went there."

Mitsuko sighed. "If that's what you want. I care about her, but at the end of the day, she's your kid. I just hope she doesn't relinquish her college prospects."

"I want to take a chance on Nami, anata. I want to give her a chance."

"Alright. Me too."

* * *

"I guess I won't see you at school next week then."

Nami looked up and saw the last person she wanted to talk to standing in the doorframe to her bedroom. But after hearing the good news from her father and stepmother, there was nothing—not even Nakamura Sakiko—that could could dampen her spirits.

"That's right," she said proudly.

Sakiko shook her head. "I don't get it. St. Rudolph is such a great school. Seigaku is so, so—" she wrinkled her nose. "—middle class."

Nami couldn't help but roll her eyes. "For someone who's supposed to be brilliant, you really don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"Nobody cares about class except for you. Not even the students at St. Rudolph."

"Then why are you leaving?"

 _Because you're there._ Nami wanted to say. _Because all you ever do is nose into my business and tell me all the things that are wrong with me._

"I need to become my own person, Sakiko," she said instead. Diplomacy. Calm. Happy. "Without your—your _help_."

Her stepsister looked at her pityingly. "From your abysmal performance this year at school, it's clear you can't do anything without my help."

The condescension almost riled her up again, but Nami tried to remember that this was her victory and she wasn't going to let Sakiko ruin it. "Well now I won't be such a nuisance anymore, right? You can go back to focusing on your friends and your college apps and your Tensai-san."

She saw that Sakiko stiffened at the mention of her latest boyfriend. Interesting.

Nami and Hiro referred to the guy as Tensai-san because Sakiko never mentioned her boyfriends' names in front of the family, so all they could go off of were small tidbits of information she let slip up, in this case that he was a tensai like she was.

Her stepsister never brought her boyfriends home either. Probably, Nami guessed, because of the awkward stepfamily that embarrassed her with their lower class habits, like wrapping the remote in plastic wrap or reusing grocery bags as trash bags, practices that Mitsuko-san had grudgingly adopted into the new family routine.

"He and I—he and I aren't together anymore," Sakiko muttered.

Nami wasn't that surprised at the news of a breakup, which occurred fairly often as Sakiko tired of a boy's lack of mental prowess, looks, or pedigree. But it was the fleeting look of defeat that crossed her stepsister's face as she said it that made Nami wonder what had happened.

"I'm sorry," Nami said awkwardly. "When did you guys break up?"

"February."

Nami blinked. That was almost two months ago. Now _that_ was surprising, considering that usually the end of one boyfriend was continuous with the start of another (maybe even overlapping), yet since Tensai-san had appeared she and Hiro had yet to encounter the need for a new boy nickname. Which was why she had assumed that they were still together…

"And I guess, as always, you dumped him?"

"Y-yeah." Sakiko's voice faltered.

"Huh."

Silence. Nami almost felt bad for asking.

"It's late," Sakiko said abruptly. "I have to wake up early tomorrow to prepare my start-of-the-year speech. It's not easy surpassing my own words every year when I've been student council president for the entirety of high school."

And she was back.

"Okay," Nami muttered. "You go do that. I'll just dream about my desolate high school career at Seigaku without your guidance."

* * *

"Seigaku, huh?" Fuji Yuuta mused as he stared at his friend Nami hanging upside down by her legs on the monkey bars.

She nodded, her chin moving up and down vigorously. She couldn't have looked sillier, with all of her dark-gray hair pulled down by gravity.

He had been one of the few at St. Rudolph whom she had confided in about her desire to transfer, but he hadn't known that she was considering Seigaku.

"Why do you look so pensive, Yuuta-kun?"

"Ah—it's just I know someone who goes there."

"Don't we all?"

"I know him quite well actually."

"Oh, who?"

"Aniki. My older brother."

Nami flipped off the monkey bar to stare at him from the right side up with her dark blue eyes. "Well, I guess you would know him pretty well, Yuuta-kun."

"Yeah," he laughed.

"How come you go to a different school than him?"

He stayed silent for a moment. "It happened during junior high. Pretty much for the same reason as why you're transferring. I hated Aniki back then. But I was angry and immature, you know?"

Nami snorted. "There's no way your aniki is worse than my stepsister."

That was probably true, Yuuta thought. Nakamura Sakiko was absolutely insufferable, and he couldn't for the life of him see why the rest of the student body at St. Rudolph adored her. It probably had something to do with her legs for the male population and a stifling fear of her wrath for the females.

But most of all, Yuuta hated how Sakiko brought out the worst in Nami, how she never even gave her a chance before nitpicking away at everything Nami did, breaking her confidence and reveling in it. He hated how Nami became small and bitter and mean after her daily dose of Sakiko, when the Nami he knew was kind and genuine and strong.

She was the kind of girl who would sit with a surly tennis freak that others avoided (aka him) at lunch when all the other St. Rudolph tennis regulars were off doing shady shit that he didn't want to engage in. She never judged Yuuta for being associated with a sports team known throughout the school for playing dirty, even when he could tell that she loathed Mizuki-senpai with all her little heart and refused his pleas to use her photography skills for spying on rival tennis teams. Tsuchida Nami was a loyal friend if there ever was one, and he would miss her a lot more than their short year of friendship would suggest.

The sun was beginning to set and the cicada chirps had grown louder. They migrated to the creaky set of swings at the corner of the playground.

"Hey," he punched her in the arm. "Good luck at Seigaku." _I'll miss you._

Nami smiled softly. It was a softness that disappeared whenever Sakiko appeared, Yuuta had noticed.

"Let's stay friends, okay?" She looked at him earnestly.

"I can't make any promises," he teased.

She whacked him on the head.

"Okay, okay, pinky promise," he said gruffly.

Having crossed pinkies, Yuuta watched Nami's gray hair swish back and forth as she biked toward her house, her enormous black camera bag haphazardly strapped to her small frame. As he turned to head back to the St. Rudolph dorm dedicated to its small percentage of boarding students, he couldn't help but feel that a kindred spirit had left his side at school.

~XX~

* * *

Let me know what y'all think ! :D :D Reviews are greatly appreciated hehe

xoxo rainywindows


	2. Panorama

A/N: Hullo hullo! Quick update because it's winter break and I'm feeling inspired and I thought I should give you guys an appearance of Fuji Syusuke before asking any of you to come along for the ride :)

AND A CAMEO FROM…...can you guess? Our good ol' buchou! And maybe some other weirdo tennis friends :D

 **PLEASE READ:**  
Reminder that they are all in high school. All the events in the original Prince of Tennis have already occurred, and three years have now passed. The original Seigaku regulars are reunited in high school. For the sake of convenience, Ryoma, Tezuka, Oishi, and Kawamura will still be there. US Opens, Germany, doctor dreams, and sushi restaurants can wait until after high school, kay?

And honestly I have my hands full already with Nami and Sakiko. Seigaku tennis boy OCs would probably wreak just a little too much havoc in this story :)

 **Disclaimer:** PoT is Konomi-sensei's brainchild. I can only hope to one day broach such creative genius.

* * *

 **Bursts of Light: Chapter 2**

 ** _Panorama  
_** _A wide-angle photograph.  
Often, but not restricted to, a landscape._

Tsuchida Nami was not having a great day. And as usual it had been Nakamura Sakiko's doing.

Sitting in the back of one of Nakamura & Ito Law Firm's company cars, Nami fidgeted and fingered the package of clothes on her lap. "Ano, Takahashi-san?"

The elderly driver turned around to face her in the backseat. He could afford to, with the Hiro-fake-eating-his-vegetables speed at which traffic was moving through the city right then. "Yes, Nami-sama?"

"How much longer do you think, until we get to Seigaku?"

"I'm sorry, Nami-sama, I can't promise anything during the Tokyo morning rush."

"Ah—it's just school started 10 minutes ago..." And it was her first day too.

Takahashi-san looked so remorseful that Nami couldn't handle it. "I'm very, very sorry," he said in his gravelly voice. "I'll take full responsibility for your tardiness when I report to Mitsuko-sama."

"Nono, please don't! It's alright." She smiled at him reassuringly.

That was the last thing Nami wanted, for poor Takahashi-san, who drove around their entire screaming family every week, to get in trouble with her stepmom for something that wasn't even his fault.

She leaned back in her seat and blew at the baby hairs falling into her face. The plan had been to start taking the subway to school again now that she no longer had to commute with not-a-real-person Sakiko, who refused to take any form of public transport.

The plan had also been to pick up her new mint green Seigaku girl's uniform three days ago, from the school-recommended tailor just a few blocks down the street from her home. But her stepsister had never cared much for anyone's plans except her own.

* * *

" _Otou-san, Mitsuko-san, I'm off to pick up my new uniform! Don't wait for me to eat dinner!" she yelled down the cavernous hall of the McMansion lovenest they'd all moved into last year._

" _Don't bother going, Nami."_

 _She looked up to see Sakiko at the top of the stairwell, having come out of her room._

" _Sakiko, I'm not going to ask Takahashi-san to go pick up my uniform when I'm perfectly fine doing it myself."_

" _No, I mean that your uniform won't be ready until three days from now." For some reason, her stepsister looked mighty pleased with herself, which was never a good sign._

 _Nami furrowed her brows. "I'm positive the tailor said it would be ready by today at the latest."_

" _Oh you don't want to be tailored by him," Sakiko said airily. "He's only had experience with common fabrics."_

" _I'm going to school, Sakiko, not to a society gala."  
_

" _I think it's really important you make a good first impression at Seigaku, Nami, especially since who knows what you'll get yourself into without me. I called the tailor and told him we'd be switching your uniform situation over to Mori-san, who works with okaa-san's firm to fit all their suits. Silk and cashmere is the way to go."_

" _You WHAT?" Nami spluttered._

" _Mori-san, Nami. Don't tell me simply transferring to Seigaku has already made you lose that many brain cells."_

" _So you have my uniform then?"_

" _Of course not, silly." Sakiko's laugh tinkled down the stairs. "Mori-san takes his work very seriously. Didn't you hear me earlier? It won't be ready until three days from now."_

 _Nami counted the days in her head. "Three days—THREE DAYS? The start of school is in three days! Am I supposed to show up for the first day in my St. Rudolph blazer?"_

" _I mean, that'd be better than wearing Seigaku trash, am I right?" That was Sakiko's idea of a joke. "But gosh, Nami, you can just pick it up in the morning before school."_

" _Um, you're kidding right?_ _First day starts at eight o'clock. Mori-san is on the other side of town."_

" _Takahashi can drive you. You weren't actually going to take the subway, were you?"_

 _Nami stared at Sakiko as she headed back into her room without a glance back. Now poor Takahashi-san, who lived close to Mori's tailor shop, would have to wake up at five in the morning to get to their home early enough for the six o'clock departure that was required._

 _What in kami-sama's name was wrong with her stepsister?_

* * *

Six o'clock, it turned out, had not been early enough. In fact, Nami was pretty sure she would have gotten to Seigaku by now if she'd just revolted and taken the subway.

"Nami-sama?" Takahashi-san peered back at her timidly. "Might I suggest something?"

"Anything, Takahashi-san."

"If you want to minimize your tardiness, you could change into your uniform in the car so you're ready to go when we arrive at Seigaku."

Nami gulped and surveyed the large number of windows. (Did cars usually have this many windows? Yes, yes they did.)

"I promise I won't look," the elderly driver added.

She assured him that that had been the last of her worries. It seemed that all the commuters around them were tapping away at their phones, having given up on the standstill traffic. She sighed, fingered the weird expensive fabric that she was sure would not be worn by any of her other uniformed peers, and began to peel off her pants in the backseat.

Takahashi-san was kind enough to start tinting the windows, and Nami made a mental note to herself that this was a car feature to be used for the next time Sakiko decided to ruin her life.

The black company car finally pulled up at Seishun Gakuen a whopping forty-eight minutes after she was supposed to get there. But this was Nami's day, her biggest triumph in the past year, and she couldn't help but feel small shivers of joy as she thanked Takahashi-san heartily and ran toward the building with the tall clocktower that her new school was famous for.

That was, until she realized that the imposing iron gate at the campus entrance was firmly locked and not budging. Clearly she had surpassed any sane conception of lateness that the administration expected of its students.

She was about to press the button at the side of the gate, on the black plastic box with the speaker that would transfer her over to the front office, when she paused. A front office encounter meant a tardy mark. And a tardy mark meant that Takahashi-san—sweet, helpful Takahashi-san—would ignore her earlier instructions and take the blame in front of her stepmother.

No, Nami couldn't let that happen.

She dubiously surveyed the cherry red brick wall, on each side of the gate, that seemed to stretch on and on and on until—what was that?

She ran over to the patch of green she had spotted. It turned out to be a dense wall of tall shrubbery that was in place of the brick wall for a good ten meters or so. Dense was an understatement. The span of shrub was positively cement-like. It was apparent that whomever had nurtured this plant had made it their life's work to ensure that no shrub of theirs would ever fall inferior to a silly _brick wall._

But it was also apparent to Nami that the most breachable of Seigaku's primary line of defense stood right in front of her.

This is for Takahashi-san, she thought grimly as she reached her arms in for her first attempt at clearing a human girl-sized hole to step through.

Then there was a second attempt. Then a third.

In the end, it took a grand total of six tries, an extra pair of stockings she had dug up from her school bag to tie away some of the branches, and several ounces of the gracefulness that was Nami's only Sakiko-approved trait, to burrow over to the other side.

Thank kami-sama, Nami thought as she plucked away all the leaves she could see from her hair and uniform, surveying Seigaku's inner courtyard with triumph.

Suddenly, a pair of gardeners carrying rakes came into view. Shoot. She sprinted away as they were still happily chattering with each other instead of noticing the gaping hole in the shrub just twenty meters away from them.

The closest door to the main building let into what looked like the choir room. That couldn't be right. She needed to find the auditorium, where she prayed, _prayed_ , that the start-of-school assembly was still running, only after which the first attendance of the year would be taken.

She ran out of the choir room into a hallway. Left. Right. Fifty-fifty chance. She picked left and wandered down the locker-lined halls. From her harried glances, she could tell that Seigaku wasn't as shiny as St. Rudolph, but it was a heck of a lot less pretentious.

Nami kept her eyes peeled for large double doors and a room sign indicating the auditorium. It wasn't until finally—finally—she found it that she started to breathe again, hearing the blare of a microphone still resounding from within.

She closed her eyes and imagined peace, calm, elegance. Her posture and poise from years of taking photographs in delicate—even dangerous—situations were what she still had control over after the craziness of the past year, and it was the one thing Mitsuko-san and Sakiko couldn't pick apart about her. And if she was going to make a good first impression on her peers like Sakiko had insisted, it would be with her utter gracefulness and not anything her stepsister forced on her.

With the stealth of her mother stalking a lion for her next National Geographic photograph, Nami creaked open the door to the auditorium.

So far so good. Every head remained turned toward the speaker at the podium center stage rather than turning around to stare accusingly at her. The speaker—the student body president, she guessed—had hazel hair in a side part, wire-rimmed glasses, and a military posture that she couldn't help but be impressed by.

So this was the Seigaku version of Sakiko. Nami wondered if he was just as insufferable.

"Each of us has an important role to play at Seigaku High School," he said to the audience, his voice stern. "Whether you are matriculating from the junior high with old friends or you are new to our ranks, whether you are a student, athlete, or artist—we are one family, one team. So I'll end with this: Let's do our best together. Don't let your guard down."

Nope, definitely not like Sakiko, Nami thought in relief. Maybe there was just a little bit of a stick up his butt, but he seemed like a really good guy. A good leader.

As the applause began to grow for the young man who was switching places with their principal, who would then give his speech, Nami capitalized on the noisy opportunity to hurry to an empty seat she had spotted several rows from the back. Gracefully, of course.

She glided toward it, not believing her luck. Maybe things were going to turn around at Seigaku after all. Maybe she'd be able to find some peace here. Maybe—

"Ah, excuse me?" a soft male voice spoke from behind Nami as she felt a slight pulling sensation at the back of her head.

Nami whirled around, perplexed. Sitting at the edge of the row she had been about to pass and now facing her was an older boy, the speaker. He had sandy brown hair that framed soft features and a beatific smile that squeezed his eyes shut into half-moons.

And he was holding a—a branch?!

"Sorry about that," he murmured. "I just thought I would help get this out of your hair before you had walked away." The students around the boy snickered.

THAT had been in her HAIR?

So much for elegant first impressions.

* * *

Nami, a second year, had been placed into class 2-D. But honestly, she didn't care if she was in class 2-A, 2-C, or 2-E, so long as there weren't any students in her room who had witnessed the branch debacle earlier.

Thankfully there weren't, she noted as she looked around the classroom from the vantage point of the third row window seat that the seating chart at the front of the room had assigned her to. However, it did seem that most people already knew each other, which she expected, especially as this was her second new school in two years.

As the clock struck 9:30, a later start to class than they would have after the first day, their homeroom teacher—a smiling woman in her early 50s—called the gaggle of teenagers to attention.

"Good morning everyone. My name is Okada-sensei. Along with being your homeroom teacher, I will also be your math instructor. I look forward to working with all of you in the coming school year."

Polite claps.

"Let's begin our day with introductions. Name. Birthdate. Favorite school subject. Favorite hobby. Favorite math theorem. That last one is optional." The side of her mouth quirked up.

"Sensei, is that necessary? I don't think it is. It's not," a boy in the row in front of her said loudly, though not maliciously at all. "Everyone already knows each other."

All Nami could observe of him from behind was a tuft of spiky black hair that obscured her view of the chalkboard.

"Not everyone, baka," a girl scoffed at him, though not maliciously either. She was the one sitting next to Nami, and she proceeded to nudge her head toward Nami when the boy turned around, about to argue.

"Oh," he said, his purple eyes a bit sheepish.

Momoshiro Takeshi turned out to be his name, birthday was July 23. Favorite school subject was math, favorite hobby was eating hamburgers. (How was that a hobby? thought Nami.) He even answered the math theorem question, which made sense considering his favorite subject. It turned out to be Euclid's theorem, which Nami had honestly never heard of.

Soon it was her seatmate's turn, the one who had come to her defense earlier. She stood up, her black ponytail swishing confidently, her forest green eyes bright. "Kikuchi Miori. Birthday is February 3. Favorite school subject is English. Favorite hobby?" She paused and seemed to smirk a little at Momoshiro. "Beating cocky boys at tennis." Appreciative laughter from the class. "And favorite theorem is whatever helps me pass math this year." More appreciative laughter.

And suddenly, twenty-five pairs of eyes had landed on Nami. "A-ah." She stood up, keeping her back straight and giving what she hoped was a friendly smile. "Tsuchida Nami, new transfer from St. Rudolph High School." Whispers. She ignored them and plowed on. "Birthday is December 18. Favorite school subject is—eh—I guess literature. Favorite hobby is probably photography." She paused. "And I'm with Kikuchi-san on the math theorem." A few chuckles from around her and a small smile from Kikuchi.

After the long round of introductions, the rest of the morning passed quickly with a brief math class. Soon the lunch bell rang and with it a mad dash to grab friends and rush out the door to beat the long food lines that were sure to form.

Nami, however, took her time putting her writing utensils in her pencil bag and filing away the math syllabus in her pretty organizer, since it would be at least a few months before she would have people to grab and rush out the door with for lunch. Not that she minded, as this was all part of going to a new school. Her heart was still riding on the gladness that was Seigaku and its brick (bush?) walls that protected her from Sakiko for the school day.

"Hey, Tsuchida-san right?"

Nami looked up and saw her seatmate Kikuchi looking out of breath. Nami's eyes traveled along Kikuchi's arm to find the reason why, only to see that it was attached with pincer-like force to the arm of a slightly put-out looking Momoshiro.

"This madwoman dragged me over here insisting that I apologize when I didn't even do anything wrong. Ah..." He scratched the back of his head. "I am sorry though—about earlier. I'm an idiot and I usually don't watch what I say. But yeah, welcome to Seigaku. We like new people. We do."

"Yeah, don't mind idiots like him, Tsuchida-san," Kikuchi smiled brightly. "We're glad you're here."

Nami was stunned. Not only were the three of them the last ones left in the room and sure to be relegated to the cold lunch bread line (even Okada-sensei had bolted off to get her hands on some miso soup), they had taken the time to apologize for the smallest of slights. How could Kikuchi be so perceptive when Sakiko was denser than the bush Nami had traversed this morning? Were they even the same species?

She smiled at them. "Thanks Momoshiro-san. Don't worry about it at all. And thanks for, er, escorting him over here, Kikuchi-san. You guys should call me Nami."

"Done. And no more of that Kikuchi-san bullshit. I'm Miori."

"And I'm Momo."

"Baka, that's not even your first name!"

"Momo is obviously much friendlier-sounding than Takeshi, you witch!"

Miori rolled her eyes. "C'mon Nami-chan. Let's go scrounge up some lunch if we can."

And with that, Nami found herself pulled along the wave that was Miori and Momo's bickering, with their occasional attention turned toward her.

"What's with the uniform, Nami-chan?" Momo asked as he fingered the expensive fabrics that she'd been forced by Sakiko to wear. "Is that silk?!"

"God, can you for once stop making her uncomfortable on her first day of school?"

"It was just a question, geez."

"Long story short," Nami said pointedly. "I have a crazy person in my life."

Miori nodded empathetically while glancing at Momo.

They made their way into the cafeteria and bought some pitiful lunch bread. Nami offered to pay, since she was the reason that they had gotten there so late, but the other two turned their baka-calling on her with such vehemence that she shut up.

As the three of them walked back across the campus courtyard, Nami noticed that a small crowd of teachers and staff had gathered together along a spot on the campus perimeter. As they got closer, she saw several of them frowning at—at the gaping hole in the shrub she had destroyed this morning. Crap. Nami hurried her group back to their classroom to eat, feeling grateful that Momo had been moaning about being famished the minute he had finished apologizing.

It was during lunchtime that high schoolers did a majority of their socializing, so there was a constant flow of people she didn't know in and out of their classroom. Which was why Nami didn't even bother to look up from the second bread she was unwrapping (it had a sweet custard filling!) when she heard someone approaching the trio that was her, Miori, and Momo.

That is, until she heard a very familiar soft male voice say, "Ah Momo, there you are. Nee-san got these vouchers from work. They're to a new burger restaurant that's opened a few miles from here. I thought you and Echizen might like them."

Before she could stop herself, Nami had looked up in horror. Sandy hair framing the face. Beatific expression and half-moon slits. Recognition dawned on his face as well, a small smile growing on his face.

"Tree-san!" he exclaimed lightly.

Nami blushed. The boy seemed to smile a little wider.

"Eh? No, Fuji-senpai, you must have the wrong person," Momo said. "This is Tsuchida Nami. She's new to Seigaku."

"No, this is Tree-san. I pruned her earlier this morning. She's a tree, you know?"

"What the hell, Fuji-senpai. How come I never know what you're talking about?"

Miori rolled her eyes at the two boys. Nami could hear her muttering under her breath that the guys' tennis team was a bunch of fucking weirdos and how come they got more funding than the girls did.

Then, thank goodness, Fuji decided to show a bit of mercy and change the subject. "Tsuchida-chan was it? Which school did you transfer from?"

"St. Rudolph."

Fuji cocked his head. "Oh really."

"Neh, Fuji-senpai, doesn't your brother go there?" asked Momo, his mouth filled with his fifth and sixth breads.

And then it clicked in Nami's mind. Fuji as in Fuji Yuuta. Fuji as in Yuuta-kun's aniki.

"Have you ever met my baby brother Yuuta, Tsuchida-chan?"

Put on the spot, Nami didn't know what to do but nod dumbly. Suddenly, there seemed to be a glint in Fuji's half-moon slits where his eyes should have been, which Nami didn't even know was possible.

"Ah, I've never had an opportunity to examine a classmate of Yuuta's so closely," Fuji said sweetly. "Do you happen to have any stories you can share with me? Lost loves? Cuddle buddies? Sleeping habits? I don't know them too well anymore now that he lives in a dormitory and I can't sneak into his room at night."

Um, what the hell. Nami took back what she had said to Yuuta about Sakiko being worse than his aniki. They were clearly on the same level.

"Gunning for data, aren't we," Nami shot back. "Are you some sort of Seigaku Mizuki Hajime?"

She saw Fuji stiffen, the same way Sakiko had the other night when asked about her ex-boyfriend.

"No, I'm not," he said quietly.

For a good five seconds, no one seemed to know what to say. Momo broke the silence with an awkward laugh. "Well thanks for the vouchers Fuji-senpai. Are you sure you don't want to take a few?"

And with that, the relaxed atmosphere was back.

"No, I'm good, Momo. Well I've got to get back to 3-B, Eiji's getting a little antsy without me. Ja." Giving them a small wave, Yuuta's older brother, Fuji Weirdo, walked out of their classroom.

"How is it possible that you freaks have fangirls?" Miori asked Momo dryly.

"Because we're good at tennis, madwoman-chan."

"We're good at it too, you jerk!"

Nami wondered why she always ended up hanging around tennis freaks. It was as if the world she lived in revolved around the sport.

* * *

"What a weird first day," Nami muttered to Yuuta over the phone later that night.

She had just finished explaining why she had had to drill through a bush in her weird-ass cashmere silk uniform because of Sakiko, and how the two classmates she'd eaten lunch with had bickered non-stop. She'd chosen not to tell him that they played tennis, because she knew Yuuta got a little competitive over that sport and would grill her about how good she thought they were compared to him.

She'd also neglected to mention meeting his aniki. Because, well, she didn't feel quite ready yet to share about how his brother had "pruned" her at their first encounter. And also because she wasn't ready to admit that his aniki was just about as bad as Sakiko.

"But they sure are a lot friendlier over here," Nami added.

"Yeah," Yuuta laughed, a little sadly. "Yeah they are."

* * *

Tsuchida Nami.

Why did that name sound so familiar? Fuji thought to himself later that night after he'd finished writing his English homework and editing the photo of Tezuka giving the start-of-the-year speech so that all the teachers behind him looked like they were falling asleep. (It'd be a great poster to blow up for the tennis club room.)

He was sure he'd heard that name somewhere. He typed it into a search engine and hit enter. The first five links that popped up were photography award websites.

That was right, she was that young photography prodigy trained by the one and only Tsuchida Nadeshiko. As he scrolled through the first two links and looked at some of her work, he felt his breath hitch.

Her pictures were mundane, but in the best way possible. A middle-aged man reading a book (her father?). A little gray-haired boy bouncing a basketball. The thing was, her pictures—they _moved_. They captured motion the way people hoped to catch moonlight in a jar.

Fuji frowned. Why hadn't he heard more about her in the last year then? Why did it take so long for him to figure out who she was?

He checked the dates of all the awards and photographs online. They all dated from two years ago or earlier.

What had happened?

He wanted to know.

~XX~

* * *

A/N: Welp let me know what y'all think! Next update might not be as fast, since I'll have recovered from the horrendous cold that's been brutalizing me these past four days.

Any reviews and constructive criticism would definitely encourage me ;)

xoxo rainywindows


	3. Vignetting

**A/N:** Hope you all had a great Christmas spent with those you love :) GET READY FOR SO MUCH FUJI SYUSUKE IN THIS CHAPTER! Man, writing random crap during winter break instead of tackling my real responsibilities is so therapeutic.

Shoutouts to **GlaresThatKill** , **FanManga28** , **narutolover10110** , **anonymous guest** , **vocaloidDOTutauchakanqi66** , **Cloudsneverbeentouch** , **mrpmrp** , and **IrishDOTJayde** for reviewing or following this story! I love hearing from you guys ^_^

Special thanks to **GlaresThatKill** for her/his detailed feedback and continuous support!

 **Recap of Chapter 1  
** Nami convinces her parents to let her transfer to Seigaku after a miserable year at St. Rudolph with crazy Sakiko. She finds out that Sakiko and her boyfriend, the mysterious "Tensai-san" (lmao I wonder who), have broken up. Fuji Yuuta tells Nami that his older brother goes to Seigaku.

 **Recap of Chapter 2  
** On Nami's first day of school, she is forced by Sakiko to pick up her overly expensive uniform and gets locked outside of campus. To keep their driver from getting in trouble, Nami breaks through a bush and gets shrub bits stuck all over her body. Her first encounter with Fuji Syusuke is when he removes a branch from her hair during the start-of-school assembly. Momoshiro and Miori are in her class. Fuji figures out later that night that Nami is a talented photography and daughter of Tsuchida Nadeshiko.

 **Relevant OCs for Chapter 3  
** **Tsuchida Nami:** 2nd year in high school. Gray hair, dark blue eyes.  
 **Nakamura Sakiko:** Nami's stepsister. Third year at St. Rudolph. Golden hair.  
 **Nakamura Mitsuko:** Nami's stepmom. Partner at law firm. Light blonde hair in a corporate bun.  
 **Kikuchi Miori:** Nami's seatmate. Black hair in ponytail, forest green eyes.

 **DISCLAIMER:** Yung Ryomz is not mine! But if you want to give me Fuji/Kirihara/Tezuka/Yukimura, that'd be totally fine with me.

* * *

 **Bursts of Light: Chapter 3**

 _ **Vignetting**_  
 _Light falloff in the camera lens corners.  
_ _Things disappearing at the edges,  
_ _hiding themselves away._

According to Nami's classmates, the annual start-of-year club fair at Seigaku High was always an elaborate affair. More of an excuse to have a springtime festival than anything else, clubs sought to outdo one another in a scramble for new student sign-ups.

That was why by the middle of the school year's first week, Miori had already begun running around, looking rather frazzled. As one of three second-year regulars on the Seigaku girls' tennis team, she had told Nami that volunteering to helm the booth was part of her long term plan to clinch the captaincy after Nationals. (And there was no way she was letting the team get less members than the boys again this year.)

Nami couldn't help but share her new friend's excitement, admiring the ambition which she herself had not felt at all recently. And seeing as how all of Miori's other friends in Class 2-D were busy preparing their own club booths, Nami had offered her assistance—somehow ending up as chief booth decorator for the girls' tennis club.

"You're good at that aesthetic sort of stuff aren't you?" Miori had asked (but not really). "You like photography and all that."

Nami sweatdropped. "Pointing and clicking is very different from decorating. I'm actually quite bad at drawing signs..."

"I'm sure you'll be fine. I trust you." Miori waved her off and began describing to several third year girls on the team what baked goods to make, her black ponytail bouncing back and forth busily.

Given the terrifying task at hand, Nami was skipping lunch this fine Monday on the second week of class. Miori, off running some last minute errands for the just-finalized booth game, had promised to bring back gyoza as a reward for Nami's toils. With a growling stomach, she clutched the gigantic folded sign she had spent all of Sunday afternoon drawing, as she walked toward the grassy athletic fields where the club fair would be held later that afternoon.

Crafted with cloth, Sharpie, and poorly sewn-on felt patches, the sign read: "SEIGAKU GIRLS' TENNIS CLUB. WE'VE WON NATIONALS MORE TIMES THAN THE BOYS." The last part had been insisted upon by Miori, even after Nami had mentioned that it seemed just a tad too aggressive, especially since their booth would be adjacent to the guys' team.

"That's the point," her friend had replied exasperatedly. "We can't let all the attention fall to them when they're right next to us. Especially since that Echizen prodigy-brat is coming to high school this year."

Oh, Miori-chan.

Nami shook her head and smiled as she reached the booth where she was to begin setting up, her wavy gray hair blowing in the spring wind. Glancing at the currently deserted table on her left, she could see that someone from the boys' team had already started putting together what looked like a game involving tennis balls, yo-yos, and stuffed animal monkeys.

She didn't want to know.

She unfolded the giant sign and tore strips of flimsy scotch tape, wondering if it would adhere to the booth. As she examined the slippery surface of the table, she heard approaching footsteps from behind that she should have, by now, known better than to ignore.

"Nya, why are the girls being so mean this year?! We didn't do anything wrong, did we, Fujiko?"

An unfamiliar voice, but a familiar name.

Nami whirled around and stifled a yelp. Of course, Yuuta's creepy older brother was hovering over her, observing as she attempted to tape a sign that blatantly insulted his tennis team. Next to him, bouncing happily, was a redheaded upperclassman with a random piece of plaster on his cheek—also attired in the Seigaku tennis regular's jersey.

Oh, kami-sama.

"So ungrateful, Tree-san," Fuji said, his angelic smile glowing down at her. "I thought you would write nicer things after I so kindly pruned you last week."

God, when would the pruning jokes stop? They weren't even funny. In fact, they were Sakiko-level unfunny.

"Are you on the tennis team, Tree-san?" chirped the redheaded boy. "That's weird, I thought I knew all the girls by now."

"Er," Nami shifted awkwardly. "I'm not. I'm just helping out Kikuchi Miori. And my name is Tsuchida Nami, not Tree-san."

"You are Tree-san! I watched Fujiko save you at the start-of-school assembly." He chuckled a little at Nami's look of misery. "I'm Kikumaru Eiji, by the way. A third year in Class 3-B." He winked at her and stuck out a hand, which she grasped weakly. "And I should have known this was Miori-chan's doing! It has her sass written all over it, nya."

"Momo's going to have a fit when he sees this." Fuji's cheerfully soothing voice was somehow laced with evil anticipation.

"Well," Nami said, trying to end the conversation, finish her work, and get out of there as soon as possible before she was murdered by more angry boy tennis members. "I should probably get back to setting up. It was nice meeting you, Kikumaru-senpai."

Ignoring her, Kikumaru leaped over to take a closer look at her pathetic handiwork. "I don't think scotch tape will hold. You need duct tape, Tsuchida-chan! Do you have any?"

Nami shook her head.

"That's okay! Fuji and I just returned some to a student council officer. He can take you there to get it!"

"A-ah, no that's fine." That was the last thing Nami wanted, to go trouncing around campus with the guy who had interrogated her about the weirdest possible aspects of Yuuta-kun's personal life last week. It was like spending time with Sakiko _during_ the school day. Ugh.

"No, no, he must!" Kikumaru exclaimed. "Our Fujiko is the perfect gentleman, you know." He pushed Nami toward the sandy haired boy. "Go on, go on."

"Do you not want to spend time with me, Tsuchida-chan?" Fuji asked teasingly.

Nami sighed and started walking alongside him. "Of course I do, Fuji-senpai."

"Hoi hoi, how adorable!" came a voice from behind them.

* * *

Spring was Nami's favorite season. A time of new beginnings, blooming cherry blossoms, and—hope. Even though last spring had been an unhappy time for her, with her father's unpleasant new marriage, her hurried transfer to St. Rudolph, and her psychotic stepsister, Nami still couldn't help the small blips of optimism that flooded her navel as she smelled the blossoming flowers of Seigaku's campus this year. There were just so many photos to be taken in the springtime, of new life bursting forth from all angles.

As she reluctantly walked alongside Fuji on their journey to fetch duct tape, she once again noted how much friendlier her new high school seemed compared to her old one. Seigaku's modern-looking upper school felt as if it were designed with openness and collaboration in mind, while St. Rudolph's residual Catholic culture had a repressive aura that emanated from its neo-gothic architecture and scheming student body.

Perhaps scheming was why Sakiko was so popular there, with her unyielding drive to be the best at all costs a trait of much admiration for their peers. Nevertheless, Nami felt that maybe the secretive culture had rubbed off on her, as she avoided Fuji's attempts to engage her in conversation. After a minute or two, he had finally allowed them to lapse into silence as they entered the school building.

As he held the door open for her ("You first, Tsuchida-chan."), Nami glanced up at him to give a nod of appreciation. Her breath caught. She had never really taken a close look at Yuuta's older brother. Every time they had interacted, she had been too busy trying to squirm out of the embarrassing situation to really ogle at him the way she noticed the girls currently passing them on campus did.

He really was quite….good-looking. Not in the militaristic, masculine way that their student body president Tezuka Kunimitsu was. Rather, there was a soft elegance to him, especially when his floppy hair caught the slight breeze and blew across the delicate features splayed across his face. Add to that the enigmatic smile he seemed to be giving her at the moment, and Nami was left just standing there.

Unfortunately, Fuji took this as a signal that she was ready for human conversation. "What clubs are you thinking of joining at Seigaku, Tsuchida-chan?"

Not about to admit that she was staring not because she wanted to talk to him but because he was considerably prettier than she was, she had no choice but to reply this time. "I haven't thought too much about it. But maybe the photography club."

"Oh?" he remarked casually. "Do you like photography?"

Nami stared at the speckled gray floor tiles of the hallway they were walking down. "A bit."

He smiled down at her. "I heard our photography club is quite good. You should definitely join, I bet you'd be a valuable addition."

She shrugged. "Yeah, maybe."

"Were you in the photography club at St. Rudolph?"

"Nah, I wasn't allowed—I mean I wasn't in it." Nami groaned inwardly at her small slip. She didn't feel like explaining her family situation to this guy who seemed wholly untrustworthy and much too similar to her stepsister.

"So what did you do at St. Rudolph? Were you in any clubs with Yuuta?" Fuji asked, gracefully overlooking the intriguing piece of information she had divulged.

"I was in the science competition club, the historical analysis club, and the community service committee," Nami replied as she rattled off all the extracurriculars Sakiko and Mitsuko-san had forced her to join, though she had been abysmal at all of them. "And Yuuta and I were in student council together."

"Wow, you were quite the go-getter."

She had to keep herself from choking at just how _wrong_ Fuji's remark was.

He continued. "Did Yuuta speak a lot in student council? How were his speeches?"

"He didn't speak that often, unless there was something important to say. Then he would be really passionate about it, sometimes to the point of being a little angry." Nami couldn't help but laugh at the memory.

They turned the corner a third time. They sure were turning a lot of corners, Nami thought. But honestly, with her current grasp of the building layout, she couldn't tell the difference between one hall and another.

Fuji chuckled too. "That's Yuuta for you."

This conversation was almost….nice. Was it possible that Fuji Syusuke was not as horrible as she had initially thought?

But then he kept going. "Tell me, were there any girls in student council he was trying to impress? What do you think his type is? What's the most embarrassing thing he spends his allowance on?"

Moment ruined.

She looked him in the eye(slit). "If you want to know so badly, ask him yourself, Fuji-senpai." Nami was not about to let her friend's life be ruined the way hers had been after Sakiko had waltzed into her existence. There was clearly a reason Yuuta-kun had transferred to St. Rudolph.

"Saa, he won't tell me when I ask," Fuji complained.

"Then maybe you should ask yourself why," she replied a little testily.

"How about you just tell me who he sits with at lunch?"

Nami was about to open her mouth again when she realized something. They _had_ been turning too many corners. In fact, she was certain they had walked down this hallway before, with the same student council campaign poster peeling off in that very corner. "Fuji-senpai," she looked up at him sharply. "Are you taking me in circles?"

Was it possible that this—this sadist had taken advantage of her lack of familiarity with the school to interrogate her about his brother?

"Ahh, it seems I've been caught," he smiled, not sounding the least bit remorseful. "I guess our Yuuta sharing circle will have to wait until next time."

Next time? The next time would be when hell froze over, Nami thought vehemently. "Nevermind. Let's just get the duct tape and go before Miori-chan comes back and finds a half assembled booth," she muttered. There was no point in arguing with crazies like him and her stepsister.

She stayed quiet after that and so did he. They located the harried-looking student council member whom Kikumaru and Fuji had given the duct tape to, and retrieved it from him. On the way back, it seemed Fuji was wise enough to not lead her on any more detours. They proceeded outside and back across the grassy athletic fields in what Nami felt to be awkward silence, though the tall boy walking next to her seemed infinitely relaxed, his elegant fingers looped around the roll of silver tape.

As they neared the cluster of booths dedicated to the athletic clubs, Nami's blood ran cold. She could see the backside of a girl in a black ponytail in front of the girls' tennis team booth, with one hand on her hips and the other holding what was probably the takeout container of gyoza. It could be no one other than Kikuchi Miori. Except that Nami had not finished taping the sign, the task for which she had been promised her lunch. Her stomach growled in both hunger and fear.

"Hungry?" Fuji looked down at her, a little hesitantly. "I have some wasabi rolls in my tennis bag, if you want some later."

"Ah, no I'm fine. Thanks, though." She gave him a half-smile, all of a sudden feeling a little bad about her silent treatment. "If we could hurry to the booth though." She was so nervous about facing Miori that she didn't even dwell on the fact that Fuji's snack of choice was plain _wasabi_ in a roll.

However, as they finally got within hearing distance of the tennis athletes manning their two respective booths, relief filled her. Because the annoyance in Miori's voice didn't sound like it was being directed at her, but rather at a very indignant-looking Momoshiro, who was currently eating out of the large bag of chocolate that was clearly meant to be handed out to those who would pass by the boys' tennis booth.

"WHY would you write something so antagonistic on your sign?" he was complaining loudly.

"Che." Miori could be heard scoffing. "As if your precious Echizen wouldn't say the same thing to us if it were true. But unfortunately, it's a fact that we've won one more national championship than you guys."

"Yes, but he wouldn't _write_ it on our club sign when we were _right next to you guys_."

"A girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do, Momoshiro. Especially when our damn principal still gives us less money every year than you guys."

"How is that my problem?! Ah, Fuji-senpai—" Momoshiro saw Fuji and Nami and waved for them to come over. "Come here and tell this madwoman that her team's lack of fundraising skills has nothing to do with us."

As the two of them reached the booths, Fuji smiled innocently. "I also believe in equal pay, Momo. Don't you?"

Miori had never looked more smug.

"That—that's not the point!" Momoshiro spluttered as he grabbed more chocolate from the bag.

"Idiot, if you keep eating candy, you won't have any left to hand out!" Miori scolded.

"That's alright, Kikuchi-chan," Fuji said to her. "I already told Inui that if we run out of chocolate, he can pass out free samples of his newest juice. I think everyone at school should get a chance to try it, not just the tennis team. Wouldn't you both agree?"

As the two second-year regulars stared at him slack-jawed, Nami instead stared at the steaming container of gyoza that was now sitting unattended on the girls' table, just three inches from Miori's right hand. Maybe—just maybe—now that her friend was distracted from bickering with Momo, she could use her photographer's gracefulness to pilfer it and eat some lunch _before_ taping the overly aggressive sign she had been forced to make.

Her slim fingers skated toward the container. Almost there.

"Hold it, Nami-chan. Can I ask why you were off on a romantic campus walk instead of setting up the booth?"

Nami froze. From off in the distance, she swore she could hear the gleeful _hoi hois_ of one bouncy redhead.

* * *

Fuji had always preferred winter over spring. Sure he _liked_ the springtime, with its heralding in of a new school year and its pretty flowers to photograph. But he had always been a little different from others, in the sense that he did not crave new beginnings and fresh starts to pave over former regrets. As his tennis teammates widely knew, he had never been one to dwell on losses, as long as he had experienced a thrilling match. Spring just didn't hold the same charm for him as it did for young girls hoping for their first love upon entering high school, or motivated boys who believed that this would be the year they finally cracked the top 50 in the class ranking. Fuji had always fallen in the top ten of his grade, and therein lay his problem—he was simply excellent without trying.

Winter, on the other hand, captivated him with its icy temperature and early nights. There was something so clinical about the way winter froze over things with little discrimination. And on the rare occasion that it snowed in Tokyo, Fuji never got enough of the breathtaking icicles that pierced the air across the city. With the neighborhoods asleep, he would occasionally sneak out at night to take photo after photo of their dangerous beauty. Yes, winter was much more stunning.

However, this springtime felt different. He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but it had been the first time in a long while that the start of school had made him so—so excited. Maybe it was that this was his senior year, the last remnant of childhood before he went off to college somewhere, wherever that would be. Or maybe it was the fact that his favorite iteration of his middle school tennis team was finally reuniting in high school with the arrival of their beloved o'chibi, as Eiji called Echizen.

No, it wasn't those reasons. They were both admittedly very nice, but they couldn't be responsible for the tingles of intrigue that kept overtaking him these days. The real culprit for that had to be….Tsuchida Nami.

Yes, it had to be her. At first, her transfer from St. Rudolph had piqued his interest due to Yuuta. He hadn't minded weirding her out with his questions because, after all, this was an excellent opportunity to capitalize on finding out tidbits about his beloved baby brother. His relationship with Yuuta was fine after all of that drama during their middle school years, but his brother was still an extremely private person and sometimes—just sometimes—Fuji got bored of their morning calls that consisted of "Fines" and "Alrights." How else was he supposed to write the best wedding speech ever when the time came, if he didn't have as many embarrassing anecdotes as possible?

But now, Fuji was regretting just a tiny bit how he had ended up on Tsuchida Nami's bad side in the short span of a week. It wasn't until he had headed over from the boys' tennis booth to go run the photography club booth that he realized the girl with the stunning blue eyes might not join if she knew he was president.

They had parted ways earlier that afternoon on an awkward note, after the two of them had broken up the Momoshiro-Miori throwdown that had been ignited by the girls' team's aggressive sign.

"Thank you for fetching the duct tape with me, Fuji-senpai," Tsuchida had said out of obligation when she'd finished decorating the booth with Kikuchi.

"Of course," he had replied warmly. "And…I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier."

She had stiffened. He noticed that same stiffness every time they passed one another in the hallways. "It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"My offer still stands about those wasabi rolls."

"Thanks, but the gyoza Miori brought me were pretty filling. I'll probably go check out the different booths now."

"Ah….alright."

As he had watched Tsuchida wander away, he'd wondered if he would ever know why she had quit competitive photography two years ago. Though Fuji often had trouble feeling true passion, he felt a conviction for some reason that talent like that should not be wasted. He had always been sensitive to beauty, and her photographs were beyond that.

Now that the fair had officially begun, he was standing at the booth with two of the other photography club officers, keeping an eye out for her. Their table was on the other side of the athletic field from the tennis regulars. Hoards of new first years crowded down the various grassy alleys, grabbing as much free food as they could. Fuji's booth had already gotten twenty sign-ups, most of them girls for some reason. Perhaps it was the cupcakes his vice president had baked.

Suddenly, amidst the crowd about twenty meters away, he saw a flash of gray hair and wispy side bangs. Tsuchida was coming their way, in the softly graceful walk that he had gotten used to seeing around campus.

"I'm going on a walk," he announced.

"A walk? Why?" Ando Honoka, his vice president and fellow third year, glanced at him.

"See that gray-haired girl over there?" Fuji cocked his head, not answering her question. "Make sure she joins our club while I'm gone, Ando-chan." He flashed a brilliant smile at the bemused-looking Honoka.

"But if it's a girl who you want to join, the most effective person would be you, Fuji-senpai," Masuda Goro, their second year treasurer, piped up.

"I have no idea what you mean," he replied. "But I do feel like taking a walk. Ja."

"Wait, Fuji-kun. Can't you stay and help us with her then?" Honoka demanded, her brown eyes flashing in slight panic. "And don't we have too many girls already because of you?!"

He pretended not to hear her and disappeared into the crowd, mildly enjoying the prospect of letting his favorite two officers flounder.

* * *

Having procured a free neck pillow from the world travel club, two boxes of Pocky from the track team, and a tiny potted succulent from the beautification committee, Nami was having a pretty good afternoon. She had carefully avoided the overachiever-type clubs she'd been a part of at St. Rudolph. They had been so very Nakamura and so not her. Rather, she'd been cajoled into putting her name down for the poetry reading club. It sounded so low maintenance that perhaps she'd stop by for a meeting sometime.

She still hadn't spotted the photography club booth though. Having started near the athletic teams and slowly wandered across the fields, she was finally nearing the edge of the fair boundaries. Maybe this was a sign from the universe that she shouldn't waste her time with photography anymore—at least on an official level. Because things on an official level were subject to the criticisms of her stepmother and stepsister, who firmly believed that her continual rise in the artistic world would amount to nothing. For five months straight after the engagement between her father and Nakamura Mitsuko, Nami had heard an unending barrage of speculations on her future as a starving person on welfare.

At least now, even though they still grumbled about her private hobby, her photographs were for her eyes only. No longer could Sakiko stare dismissively at the shots that Nami had put _so much work into_ and question their "market value." After all, photography was just pointing and clicking, right? It was just using a machine. No real human skill was really involved. Nami had started to believe those sentiments.

By the time she saw a table with a modest sign that said "Seigaku Photography Club" and a tri-fold of some developed photos, she had made up her mind to walk past it. She trudged on, staring down at the clods of soil under her feet.

"Hey you!"

She kept walking.

"Hey, I'm talking to you! The gray-haired one."

She looked up and saw a brown-haired, brown-eyed upperclassman girl beckoning at her from—oh boy—the photography club booth. She almost kept walking, if not for the determined way she was being stared at. She reluctantly made her way over.

"You look like an artistic soul. How about joining our club?" the girl asked.

"Ah, I think I'm good, thanks." Nami gave a friendly but dismissive smile.

"We can teach you things here. Our club consistently outputs work that scores some of the highest ratings at the Tokyo High School Arts Festival." She looked proud.

Nami sighed. "I don't—I don't really do that sort of stuff anymore." She turned to leave.

"Wait!" a boy with curly ocean-blue hair jumped in front of her. "At least look at some of the pictures taken by our president. Then maybe you'll change your mind." He gestured at the tri-fold that Nami hadn't bothered to look carefully at.

She shrugged. Why not? She walked closer and peered at them. Her heart skipped a beat. Whoever—whoever their club president was, they were damn talented. Their style was definitely different from hers. While she preferred taking pictures of people in action, this person captured intricate details of nature that seemed made for the camera. A gossamer spider web on the turnstile of an abandoned subway station, the background between the threads hinting at urban decay. The moon between two deadly sharp icicles. A single cherry blossom that had fallen on the baseline of a tennis court.

The pictures were incredible.

Before she could change her mind, Nami hastily scrawled her name on the sign-up sheet and fled.

* * *

Fuji made several laps around the fair, at one point visiting the two tennis booths again. He thought that Tezuka probably should have checked whether Kikuchi Miori was running the girls' table before allowing Momo to take over the boys' booth, seeing the havoc that was being wreaked there at the moment. He would let his captain and best friend know tomorrow that he had "let his guard down."

Finally, he felt it safe enough to return to the photography club booth. He arrived to a small nod from Honoka and an excited hug from Goro, the younger boy's curly blue hair colliding into him.

"How did it go?" he asked them.

"Why don't you take a look for yourself?" Honoka stepped aside and gestured at the sign-up sheet taped to the table.

Fuji ran his finger down the names. Near the bottom, in pretty handwriting, was a small _Tsuchida Nami_.

He smiled.

~XX~

* * *

 **A/N:** Let me know what y'all think! Reviews are greatly appreciated hehe. Last update before the new school term starts and I go back to slaving away at 20 hour problem sets (crying tears of fear).

Soundtrack I listened to while writing this: Cover of "Sunday Candy" by Emily Jean (available on Youtube or Spotify!)

xoxo rainywindows


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